


common cold is quite uncommon

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caring Bedelia, F/M, Sick Fic, Sick Hannibal, bedannibalprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 19:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “Bedelia, I am sick,” he states with all seriousness. Her fear disappears instantly, replaced at once by a crushing wave of exasperation.





	common cold is quite uncommon

It started with a sneeze. It was immediately followed by a second one. The loud sound echoed on the fresco walls of their spacious dining room. Hannibal suspends his fork mid-air and stares into the distance as though surprised that it was him that uttered those sounds.

“Bless you,” Bedelia says, watching with curiosity this odd reaction to something so ordinary. He turns to look at her, the same perplexed expression on his face, startled by her words.

She keeps observing him as they continue their meal, but no other occurrence disrupts their routine.

Until the next morning.

 

She finds him in the kitchen, standing by the counter, the cup of coffee untouched in front of him, his fingers at the base of his neck as though adjusting an invisible knot.

“Good morning,” she welcomes him and awaits her usual cup of cappuccino, but he seems too preoccupied to notice her.

“I- " he starts awkwardly, his voice raspier than usual, "My throat hurts.”

“You might have caught a cold,” she replies matter-of-factly and starts to prepare her own coffee when he still makes no move to offer her one.

He looks at her with confusion in his eyes.

“Tea with honey would serve you better than coffee,” she proposes, but he continues to merely gaze at her.

Bedelia takes matter into her own hands, getting his favourite Darjeeling tea and brewing him a cup with a generous scoop of honey. She looks at his uncertain stare and adds another scoop. She removes the cup of coffee and places the tea in front of him. He drinks it without protest.

“This is good,” he speaks at last, "Thank you.” To Bedelia’s relief, he appears to be feeling more like himself, as he dresses and leaves for work as always.

 

Bedelia spends a captivating afternoon in the Giardino Bardini, followed by a scoop of gelato in her favourite café. She returns to what she presumed would be an empty apartment, only to find Hannibal sitting in the armchair. His bow tie is gone, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his gaze lost and distressed. She stands in front of him, a sharp stab of fear wounding her heart, considering all the possible events that might have led to his state. He notices her at last and his unsure eyes rest on her.

“Bedelia, I am sick,” he states with all seriousness. Her fear disappears instantly, replaced at once by a crushing wave of exasperation.

“I have told you, you have a cold,” she refers him to a conversation they had mere hours ago, refraining herself from rolling her eyes at him.

He stares at her as though she has just announced that he is in a final stage of an incurable disease.

“You will be all right. It is called a _common cold_ for a reason,” she says patiently.

She moves closer to check his symptoms. It would not be unlike Hannibal to fake an illness to get her attention. However, he has no need for that now, since they are sharing a home, and a bed. Her hand touches his forehead and finds it burning. He sighs at the pleasant, cool touch of her skin against his. At least she is sure that he is not pretending.

“You should lie down,” she tells him and is surprised when he gets up and goes to the bedroom without a word.

Bedelia fetches a glass of water from the kitchen and looks for something to help with his fever in the medicine box. Hannibal has accumulated an impressive selection of drugs; she is sure he had never considered to be in need of any of them himself.

When she enters the bedroom, Hannibal is in the middle of putting on his pyjama top. Now she is certain he is sick, normally he never wears it. He struggles to fastens the buttons, looking like a little boy learning how to do it for the very first time. Bedelia expects to see the buttons askew and prepares herself _not_ to intervene, but he gets them all right in the end.

She hands the glass and the pills over to Hannibal, but he does not move, gazing suspiciously at the contents.

“What is it?” he asks in very child-like tone.

“Aspirin,” she replies," For your fever. I do not intend to poison you,” she holds out the medication.

"Although now would be an opportune moment,” she adds with a smirk, but he just stares at her, her remark lost on his suddenly oblivious mind.

He finally takes the pills and the glass of water. Bedelia waits until they all disappear and the glass is empty before removing it from his hand and motioning him to lie down.

She is about to leave the bedroom, when she is stopped by his begging stare.

“Could you stay with me?”

She looks at his big, glistening eyes, staring at her with despair; the apex predator is gone, replaced by a hopeless puppy. Bedelia has never anticipated that Hannibal Lecter could be defeated by a common cold.

She sighs and takes off her shoes before joining him on the bed. Still, he keeps gazing at her imploringly.

“I am cold,” he says when she ignores his stare.

She would offer him a second blanket, but she knows it is not what he wants.

Bedelia takes a deep breath before holding her hand out to him. Hannibal snuggles next to her, his head resting against her breast and she lets her arm curl around him. He falls into a deep sleep soon after.

If only the FBI knew.

 

The next morning, she wakes up first and finds Hannibal still holding her tightly. She manages to slip out of his arms and treats herself to a long bath. It is not like her to take baths in the morning, but yesterday’s evening was _challenging_ to her.

She feels refreshed as she exits the bathroom, slipping on her favourite bath robe and heading to the kitchen to prepare her morning coffee. She adds a finishing touch of nutmeg, when a shuffling sound catches her attention. It gets closer, until Hannibal’s frame appears in the doorway. His normally meticulous pyjamas are crumpled from many hours in bed, his hair dishevelled and the remains of sleep still cling to his eyes. Those widen slightly as he sees her, yesterday’s confusion returning anew.

“I woke up and you were gone,” his voice is crestfallen.

“Good morning, Hannibal,” Bedelia decides it is best to ignore his comment,” Are you feeling better?”

“No,” he replies, his tone making it clear that there is direct connection between his continuous state and her sudden absence.

“I am preparing coffee,” he says firmly, making a statement of her own, but she knows it currently lost on Hannibal. He remains standing in the same place, looking miserable.

“Can I get you something?” she finally asks; he shakes his head.

“You need to drink something,” she stares at his stubborn expression,” I will get you orange juice. Go back to bed.” She gives him a stern look and he retreats to the bedroom.

When Bedelia follows, she finds Hannibal lying in bed, just like she told him to. She gives him a glass of juice and medication; to her relieve he accepts both without further protests. She takes back the glass and prepares to leave, feeling his pleading eyes burning at her back.

“I have planned to read a book this morning,” she answers the unspoken plea, looking back at him.

“You can read it here,” he offers with a new-found enthusiasm, his glossy gaze full of silent need.

She does not reply, leaving the room, only to return with her book a few moments later. Hannibal’s downcast eyes brighten up when he sees her, but he remains silent as she sits on the bed. He waits for her to settle with a pillow behind her back before nestling close to her once more. Bedelia puts her arm around him as she opens the book. His even breaths tell her he is asleep within minutes.

Bedelia spends the day in and out of bed, just as Hannibal keeps falling in and out of sleep. She prepares him dinner in the afternoon and threatens to leave him to sleep alone when he refuses to eat. It works like a charm.

He makes sure she is lying next to him before he goes back to sleep.

 

The following morning, she checks his forehead while he sleeps; to her relief the fever is gone. Bedelia is about to leave the bed when he wakes up. She opens her mouth to speak, but a sudden sneeze escapes instead. Hannibal looks at her, a mix of surprise and delight in his eyes.

“I think I might’ve given you my cold. I am sorry,” he says, but she is not sure if he really is, “I think we should both stay in bed again. Just in case.” A playful smile appears on his lips; he definitely feels better.

Before she gets a chance to reply, he cuddles up to her, his head finding his favourite spot against her breast, leaving her no other choice but to stay put.

A sigh leaves her lips, but is soon replaced by a smile pulling at their corners. Perhaps a little precaution will not hurt, she thinks as her hand begins to comb through his hair. It is better to be safe than sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> Sick Hannibal is an adorable mess, it was so much fun to write. I hope you don't mind two caring Bedelia and helpless Hannibal fics in a row. A genuine coincidence; I wrote this one weeks ago, but was waiting for the electric-couple blog's prompt to post it. Still, I love them taking care of each other, so expect more! Prompts are always welcome too.


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